Nov. 7

I wrestle with the fact that some students irritate me.   Not very many, usually only one at a time in any given studio configuration, but I struggle to get past it.  What is it about them, or what is it about me?  Should I rest content with my reaction, interrogate it, or try to stamp it out?

Nov. 6

Why do I hang on to the belief that people can't change?  As a musician, every day, I witness, attest to, and nurture the power of sustained practice over time.  How can I doubt that the same tools can be used to shape and cultivate our better selves?  I have been a fool.  Attentive repetition is a superpower.

Nov. 5

Six years.

Nov. 4

Margaret is full of declaratives and imperatives.  When I almost forgot her coat today at daycare, she pointed and urgently vocalized.  She can say "walk," and, almost immediately after, "home."  In that sliver of time between: "moon."

Nov. 3

Margaret grabbed her diaper and said "poop." William ticked off another day until his birthday.  I conducted four pieces about death.  David gave both of our children their weekly bath.  The tree outside church has edged past yellow, dropped its robe of leaves.

Nov. 2

Today, William walked along the curb painstakingly, exultantly, one foot in front of the other.  I had forgotten what it is to be so new in your body that its capabilities delight.

Nov. 1

How is it that the trees are still flaming?